


fires and gems and broken things / songs bind each to each

by Sovin



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon Relationships, Canon Trans Character, F/M, Families of Choice, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Team as Family, song of the lioness au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovin/pseuds/Sovin
Summary: Ramshackle fief or no, there are expectations of noble children, even those whose destinies burn brightly in the flames. Taako and Lup switch places, Lup to the Goddess' Convent in the City of the Gods and Taako to be the country's shittiest knight. Predictably, nothing goes according to plan.An unholy mashup of TAZ: Balance and The Song of the Lioness.





	fires and gems and broken things / songs bind each to each

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers all apply.
> 
> Sometimes the plot bunnies grab on and don't let go. So. This happened.
> 
> I've elided a lot of Tortall's implicit homophobia and presumed transphobia, but there is some setting typical sexism and classism that necessitates the plot as a whole, so be advised on that front. There are some things that carry over, but I promise I don't bury the lesbians, not even briefly.

The twins at Trebond take after their southern mother with their warm-dark freckled skin and golden eyes, and only show their father in the red-copper touch burning through their golden hair. Their Gifts are the same color, too, amethyst and brilliant.

Only there is no father to resent them or see ghosts in their eyes; he is long dead, and they live with their grandfather, with his sturdy hands but failing eyesight, who has not gone to Court in decades. Particularly long-lived, the Trebond line.

Lup and Taako are left to their own devices, given free run of the mountain hold, and oh, run they do. They disappear into the woods for weeks on end, roaming and hunting and sneaking into small mountain villages that never seem to recognize them the way they should. They hide in the library, perched on top of bookshelves as they pour over tomes that children should be slow to comprehend.

But Trebond is a poor fief with few people and an aging master, and so Lup draws water and Taako churns butter, and in the middle of the night, they bend their heads together and dream of what they could be.

They have an aunt, or they refer to her as an aunt and stubbornly so, who teaches them her hedgewitch magics.

Ramshackle fief or no, there are expectations of noble children, even those whose destinies burn brightly in the flames that seem to love Lup so.

“My dude, I _cannot_ be a knight,” Lup tells her brother. She _could_ be, has the prowess and battle instincts that made their grandfather decide that she should be the one to go for a knight’s training, since no one rightly remembers which of the twins is older. “I can be a lady, but –”

But a lady cannot be a knight, not in these days, and a lady must have a certain set of skills.

“No _duh_ ,” Taako tells his sister, and lets the chance for a sorcerer’s training and years of _not_ having to undergo physical exertion roll from his fingers without resentment. “We’ll switch places, natch, and forge a letter for you at the Mother’s convent at the City of the Gods. I am going to be the country’s _shittiest_ knight, I hope you are prepared for this.”

“You would have been a dope sorcerer,” Lup mumbles into his shoulder, arms trembling as she embraces him.

“And you would have been a dope knight,” Taako says, high and piping, and hugs her as tightly as he can, terrified that soon, he won’t be able to. “We’ll just have to figure out how to be both. Game the system. It’s just four years, right?”

Lup’s golden eyes are steady as embers, even though her mouth quavers. “Yeah, just four years.”

In the end, it’s no difficult thing to falsify their letters. They forge the handwriting, and switch them out before their grandfather signs them, and with his poor eyesight and general inattention, he never even notices.

Switching directions is easier still. Lup braids her hair over her shoulder and Taako bullies his back into the loose queue that Lup favors for riding. They switch riding outfits, and divvy up the meager holdings of their chests pragmatically. Mostly, at least. Taako takes their mother’s earbobs and Lup takes her bracelets, gold and amethysts glimmering in the firelight.

And on the crucial morning they have to part, they clutch one another’s hands until they can’t delay any longer. Lup rides north with their aunt, who _must_ know, and Taako rides south with a willing guardsman. Both their hearts sit in their throats.

\--

It is a good thing for both of them that they know how to lie, as breezy as a spring morning.

People see only what they expect to see, and no one suspects anything at all.

\--

The page uniforms are _hideous_ , and Taako cannot _believe_ he is expected to spend literal years wearing them.

He had waved off the Trebond guard as soon as they’d made it to the palace and knows the man will be heading home. Which is good, because now Taako won’t have any illusions to keep up. It also means that he can spend his night writing his sister about aforementioned awful uniforms and the even more absurd schedule he’s expected to keep.

Taako has never slept well, and sleeps worse when he’s alone, exhausted when he has to drag himself out for weapons practice in the early morning. But he’s always been a showman, even if he’ll never be used to the feel of even a sword in his hand, doesn’t have the strength for it, so he shows up and is flippant in the face of the suspicion and dismissal of the other pages.

The classes aren’t much better, all basics of reading and writing, and Taako is _so very bored_. The ethics instructor, a Lord Highchurch, is eccentric and has far too many plants overflowing his room, but he’s unquestionably bright. Taako is very good at seeing the way people try to hide themselves, and this man certainly is – it makes him pay attention. Not too much, though.

Taako is weak and clever and vicious, and he’s pretty, with long hair and a disaffected drawl and no inclination for physical work. They dislike him already, but he expects that – Taako has very few illusions about himself or about others. You can’t trust people, and you certainly can’t trust nobles, even if you are one, technically.

So he resigns himself to four years of clueless Taako, who holds others at a condescending distance and shirks as much as he can.

Never mind that the logistics problems make his brain spark like flint. Never mind that Magnus of Burnsides has taken to trailing Taako around like the dog he constantly bemoans not having, easy and friendly and _large_. Never mind the quiet sections of the library with its books on magic that Taako consumes on the nights he can’t sleep.

He writes his letters to his sister, glinting and wild and untouched by all the splendor around him.

\--

The convent is not nearly as quiet as Lup feared it might be, even if it lacks the explosions and cackling laughter that she’s used to with her brother.

There are more freedoms, too, even if they’ll have to be earned. The City of the Gods is a city, after all, and one well known for its places of learning – Lup likes learning new things, and is well accustomed to sneaking off to acquaint herself with them.

She doesn’t even stand out much for what she lacks in deportment, because there are other girls with discreetly seamed skirt hems and the wide stance that looks so strange with silk slippers but lets your boots find purchase on the ground.

Lup is going to be the most charming lady Trebond has seen in centuries, and she’ll do it all regardless of the eyes that follow her scrawny frame and unruly red-gold hair and eerie eyes. She’s lucky to have a room of her own, where no one can see her practicing a daintier but still _confident_ walk, where no one sees her examine her face in the mirror, where if she crosses her eyes just slightly, just a little out of focus, she can imagine it’s Taako making faces at her.

His letters warm her heart because he _is_ her heart, and she writes back at length, about the convent gossip and about the trinkets in the market places and about embroidering flames on her handkerchiefs instead of flowers. Lup writes about the small spells she’s learning, because her Gift was seized on immediately by the Daughters, and sneaks into the library less because she needs to and more because that’s just how she _does_.

Lup makes friends among the other girls, even if she never lets any of them get too close, but learns quite a bit about the sorts of things that aren’t taught in distant mountain keeps. She meets Troth, the Shang Elk, who is quiet and solemn and teaches Lup how to throw a punch and wield a staff. Lup is used to fighting viciously, nails and heat and teeth if necessary, and she struggles as much with how to use quiet, controlled weapons as she ever does with expectations of docile femininity.

\--

It isn’t ultimately that hard to be the worst page, Taako finds, mostly because no one seems to have considered that he might be _trying_ to be the worst page.

All the masters despair of him, except Davenport, the training master, who is short and bold and seems to see straight through Taako. Of course, he can’t have, because otherwise the subtle slight-of-hand that led Taako to being _here_ of all gods-forsaken places rather than learning _real_ magic would be up, but all the same.

Taako grudgingly puts up with Magnus, who deflects the worst of the attempted bullying away from Taako, even though Taako doesn’t need to be defended and soundly proves it to Jenkins, but all the same. He also tolerates Merle of Highchurch, who seems to be passively trying to adopt him. It’s against his best efforts that he’s also made friends of Julia Waxman, the Rouge, and one Barold of Hallwinter, cousin to Lord-Prince Artemis Sterling of Neverwinter.

Worse, he _likes_ them. Julia has Magnus’ heart wrapped around her finger and is also responsible for introducing Taako to Garyl. Garyl is the very best horse and honestly the only decent part of being a page. Barry is surprisingly not terrible with a sword, but he also haunts the library at night, and though he has the same deep blue eyes of the Neverwinter line, he has the dark hair and bronze skin of the southern hill country, which puts them in a similar boat. He also has a good head for mathematics, which Taako should not find to be a redeeming quality but does anyway.

Taako also enjoys writing Lup snark-filled commentary on Court fashion and lurking about the kitchen. Not necessarily the serving, when they’re supposed to be quiet and unobtrusive, but the kitchens themselves. He and Lup did much of the cooking back at Trebond, because limited servants and demands of labor, but there are ingredients and cooking styles he had never dreamed of. If he’s up early enough or has a spot of free time, the cooks don’t turn him away.

Generally speaking, Taako is good out here.

Then the Sweating Sickness happens, roiling through Corus like an avalanche.

Magnus nearly dies of it, but pulls through, weak and lulling for weeks. Barry staggers blearily through the minor case he had contracted, and Taako finds him passed out over his papers twice.

Artemis Sterling wastes away silently, and the dread in the Court grows.

Taako is no healer, but he has a sinking, unsettled feeling and a sudden surge of unfamiliar _conviction_. Lup writes a letter, full of suspicion and concern for him.

He’s never quite sure, in the aftermath, what drove him to the crown prince’s room, what found him on his knees as his magic surged, purple and bright, around him. Under his burning hands, the sickness turns to fire and water, and he swears he sees glimmers of Lup in the fire roaring in the hearth, feels her magic surge through him, feels magic like opalescent threads come together under his hands.

Davenport and Highchurch leverage Taako to his feet when the fever breaks, and he tries to wave away their concern as they let him collapse into bed. If he always drawls, he’s found, no one finds it strange when he does so from tiredness.

It’s not that Taako is invested in the monarchy or duty, it’s just… _fuck this_. Fuck all of this.

He goes to sleep, and dreams of his sister.

\--

Lup has dreams of the Sweating Sickness, limned in unfamiliar gold and ringing like the growl of a tiger.

People speak of twins as if they were magical beings, which is frankly ridiculous, but Lup _knows_ Taako and their bond isn’t any weaker for the time they’ve spent apart. When his magic flares to burn the sickness out of the crown prince, hers does too.

She’s sure something is wrong in the aftermath, when Taako writes to tell her that the king’s brother, Duke John of Neverwinter, has returned from Carthak and is going to be teaching magic. _Bullshit_ is that a coincidence.

Lucretia, who is quiet and thoughtful, agrees with her, which Lup appreciates. Lucretia has a sharp mind and an elegant hand and she makes her pocket money drafting books for various masters throughout the city. Politics seem to come easy to her, and though she seems a little diffident, so different than Lup’s brashness, she’s good to talk to.

In the meantime, Lup learns to summon fire from her hands and thankfully doesn’t raze the temple. She learns comportment and dancing, and she also learns the violin, which sits contentedly beneath her chin and sings with a sweetness she never learned.

Her shoulders fill out some and her body begins to change, but a Daughter of the Mother-as-Maiden takes Lup aside and helps her figure out how to best be comfortable with herself. Lup is a little surprised, because though she knows by now that there are others who are in her same situation, she didn’t necessarily expect the priestesses at the convent to know the same. But then, why shouldn’t they? But the priestess doesn’t say anything cruel or curbing, and Lup continues doing what she does best, which includes what the sisters think of as unruly and chaotic hijinks.

Their grandfather in Trebond finally passes, but neither Lup nor Taako can be spared to go back to the fief. They leave it in the hands of the people who actually live there. The entire time Lup has been at the City of the Gods, she’s taken only half the funds she needs from the fief, and makes up the rest with a combination of work and conartistry, and she knows Taako has been doing the same. Now, they’ll likely have to rely on themselves even further.

Lup makes friends with Greg Grimaldis, a Tyran student of the Mithran monks, and though it’s a combative friendship, it’s a good one. They sneak out into the city and end up unraveling a covert assassination plot. She nearly burns down a bathhouse, and makes friends with a visiting Carthaki scholar who seems to like her bold self-assurance.

She continues exchanging letters with her brother, and Lup begins to feel _powerful_.

When Taako and Barry leave the walls of Persopolis for the Black City, all the magic in Lup’s blood _burns_. She sinks into meditation in front of the Goddess’ sacred fire, channels all of her magic in synch with her brother’s and through the strange sword he’d written her about, the one found in a cave exploring ruins with Highchurch.

Lup brings all her fire to bear against the revenants, and her eyes blaze gold.

\--

Taako’s abysmal performance with a sword is not, unfortunately, enough to keep him from passing to squiredom. His sarcasm and lack of engagement drives off most of the interested knights, but _unfortunately_ , not Master Highchurch, though Merle at least seems to want a squire who will require as little effort on his part as possible.

It is about as good of an arrangement as Taako could possibly hope for, an excuse to hang about the palace and not go trekking through mud and blood. Magnus, though, seems anxious that Taako will be disappointed until he’s reassured, and then eagerly trots off with his own knight-master, a veritable bear of a man.

Barry mild-manneredly bullies his way into squiring under Tortall’s ambassador to Carthak, and Taako _knows_ that he’s only doing so to have access to powerful mages and the university.

It leaves Taako feeling strangely lonely, and he finds himself retreating to the kitchens more and more. The cooks welcome him gladly, and Taako’s prowess with food and magic grows exponentially. The Gift burns at his fingertips with a ghostly force after defeating the Ysandir with Barry and Lup, and Taako feels all made up of magic.

But day to day, one of the scullions trails after him, badgers Taako over and over to show him more, to let him help, and Taako – Taako feels uneasy even as he holds his line. Sazed seems disappointed but ceases his pleas.

The world still burns to the ground in a moment.

Taako lets his Gift simmer through an elderberry sauce, because dinner is rapidly approaching and the kitchen is short on time, something he’s done a hundred times before. He nearly doesn’t taste it, doesn’t test it before serving.

But on its bright, syrupy surface, there’s a faint flicker at the corner of his eye, like destiny in blazing flames, and Taako sweeps a hand over the top of the pot.

Amethyst fire burns blood red, and Taako’s heart catches in his throat. Blankly, he snaps at Sazed, hovering nearby, to put something else together.

He nearly fed forty people their deaths, he thinks, over and over again, as he carries the pot out to empty it into the gardens.

Taako sets it down and walks away from the kitchens, and doesn’t go back, doesn’t summon his Gift to light the candles in his room.

He almost writes to Lup, but she’ll be at Court soon, anyway, and the words stick heavy in his stomach.

\--

When Lup leaves for Corus, she leaves with no one else – Lucretia is not quite as eager to immerse herself in the social scene, and wants to wait for the season to start properly.

She leaves with a sack of gold nobles and a pile of shoes that will make Taako laugh (Taako, who hasn’t written her in nearly a month), and a carefully curated wardrobe, and a determination to dazzle everyone.

On the road, caught between towns, Lup turns and rides into the woods to make camp. She starts a fire with a spark of her Gift, clear and purple and friendly-familiar as a cat. It’s comfortable and quiet, and the last thing that Lup expects is for a weathered old woman to emerge from the trees.

The Mother is unearthly and strange, green eyes nearly glowing even in the crone’s face, and her dark hair streaked grey and white. Her smile looks like forest fires and ringing bells to Lup’s eyes as she throws back her hood and sits beside the fire.

“Daughter,” the Goddess says, and Lup’s heart pounds in her chest, “you have been doing my work.”

“Am I crushing it?” Lup asks, and it may be impertinent, but it’s not insincere. She smoothes her hand over her riding skirts, and wonders what a goddess wants to do with her. Lup has met a devotee of the Mother-as-Hag before, and Kravitz is a _huge nerd_ and a stickler for protocol, but she likes him well enough.

The goddess laughs, creaking like a raven’s caw, and her green eyes pierce Lup straight through. “You are forging your own path. You thwarted a sorcerer’s attempt on the life of the crown’s heir and you burned out revenants who would overpower any person in thousand. And there are machinations coming. I would have you as my hand.”

“Me and Taako,” Lup says, not out of humility, but because Lup-and-Taako have always _been_ Lup-and-Taako, and always will be. “But I mean, the defense of the realm is pretty important. So, yes?”

“Yes,” the Goddess agrees, and reaches her hand into the flames. She withdraws a coal and blows across it until it burns down to an ember. “This will aid your Sight, Lup. I look forward to seeing what you do.”

She drops the ember, warm and comforting, into Lup’s hand, kisses her forehead like a benediction, and disappears.

Lup laughs, too surprised to do anything else, and hangs the coal on a chain around her throat.

It seems like a dream in the morning, but the ember is still there, and keeps emitting a steadying warmth all the way to Corus.

She makes her presentation once she’s there, dressed in Trebond red that sets off the gold of her skin and her eyes, and sees Taako in the green-and-brown of fief Highchurch. The Goddess’ gift limns people in the color of their magic, Lup realizes, but the only flash of amethyst around her brother is the gems in his ears.

“Hey, goofus,” she says, almost ready to weep to feel him in her arms again, later that night in the quiet dark of her rooms. His hair falls soft against her cheek and he still smells faintly of sandalwood. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did, dingus,” Taako replies, burying his face against her shoulder, and that cold shell of indifference shatters entirely away. He looks at her like she’s the sun, all the fire in the world, and Lup’s faint fear that they’ve grown apart fades entirely.

\--

Taako tells Lup what transpired in the kitchen within the week, but even at her urging, cannot bring himself to go back to the kitchens or to summon the purple fire of his Gift to his hands. She sighs at him, but just props her chin on the top of his head and makes him take her into the city to meet Julia.

Lup is as bright a star as any in the court, easily graceful and brash, and Taako has missed her _so very much_. It’s easier to be a person with her around, not quite a hollow simulacrum as he’s become in her absence, in his fear.

Duke John spars with Merle over chess as always, Taako gathers, but he watches the twins during functions, his dark eyes following them suspiciously. The hairs on the back of Taako’s neck rise, and he’s too much, too used to being _prey_ to dismiss the feeling.

The war with Tusaine that threatened finally crests into being, and all knights and their squires are being sent to the front.

It’s good to see Magnus and Barry again, and better still that they get on with Lup. Barold, with his ridiculous sunburnt face and deep indigo blue magic crackling around him, turns terrible shades of red anytime she speaks to him. Lup beams at this, which is _disgusting_.

But the fact that remains that Taako is going to be worse than useless in war, when he’s got no skill with a blade and when he can’t bring fire to his hands even if he wanted to. There’s no question that he must go, because even Merle can’t be spared to stay behind.

“We’ve switched places before,” Lup reminds him, perched on the edge of Taako’s bed and polishing the amethyst-set blade they named Umbra stav years before. “You wear skirts at least as well as I do.”

Taako is a coward, but that’s not why he goes along with it. Lup will be a devastating force on the front lines, but he worries what could happen if he isn’t there to watch her back. Ultimately, though, he trusts her better than he trusts himself, and someone needs to keep an eye on the Court, especially with John’s influence around.

“Hell yeah!” Taako agrees, a beat too late to sound truly glib. “Kick yourself some ass, Lulu.”

So he trades his sword for her necklace, the one that burns comfortably on his breastbone, settles her skirts comfortably around his waist, and arranges all his red-gold curls up behind his head. Taako watches Lup, clad in armor and ready for war, swing herself up on Garyl’s obliging back, and ride off beside Barry and Magnus. They certainly aren’t fooled, and Merle probably isn’t either, but whatever, like Taako cares what they think.

Lup can hold her own in a fight, can do more than he can to make something _happen_. Taako spends the war holed up in the library and doing his best to pretend to be Lup. He gets to know Lucretia, who has a sense of drama equal to Taako’s own, if she’s quieter about it. He visits Julia, too, who holds her own in the city with a steady hand. And though he barely touches his Gift, Taako keeps near fires just in case.

Sometime in the long campaign, Lup saves the life of Artemis Sterling again and thwarts a magical fog with Barry’s help, and then the war finally ends, and they come home.

\--

There is no way to prove that the duke is plotting to destroy the entire royal family for his own purposes, or that the Sweating Sickness was his fault either, or that he has tried many, many times to rid himself of the twins from Trebond, but Lup is very hard to kill and has her eye on him.

Thankfully, their friends seem to understand and agree that things are not what they should be. Barry in particular seems to be vehement about it, and not because he particularly cares for his cousin, but because he has _principles_ , which Lup finds much more endearing than she probably should.

When they return to court, she and Taako switch places once again, and it seems so silly to Lup, that they should have to do so for each of them to find the freedoms they need. All of these constraints that should keep them so tightly tied up in arbitrary roles, but Lup and Taako are still the same people they were, at heart, who snuck into the woods and made the world their own.

They’re both there, after all, for the end of Magnus’ Ordeal, Taako nonchalantly sprawled near the door with Barry and Lup lingering in the back with an incognito Julia when Magnus steps out and slumps against his friend Avi and a complaining Taako. Magnus beams when presented with his shield, the rampant Burnsides wolfhound howling over the crossed ax and hammer, but lights up entirely from within when he sees Julia and only has eyes for her.

Barry, too, a few days later. They can’t stand as close, not when his cousin is obligated by protocol and good grace to be there, but Barry’s eyes find them all the same. He’s a quiet, shy man, Barry, but he’s rock solid and sturdy when he sees them, gaze warm on both of them, and Taako bumps his shoulder against Lup’s and she smiles, can’t stop smiling.

The day Taako’s Ordeal is supposed to begin, Lup doesn’t leave his side for anything. She walks with him in comfortable, understanding silence to the chamber of preparation, hand in hand like they were children again.

Lup ought to let go and let him cross the threshold, but her grip doesn’t loosen. The ember of the Goddess glows almost hot around her neck as she steps through with Taako. His golden eyes slide over to meet hers and though they didn’t plan this, Lup _knows_ neither of them would do this without the other.

“Shoulda known,” Merle says with a laugh, Merle who never sent her home from war. Merle who gossip says hasn’t spoken to his wife Hecuba in half a decade but who Taako tells her has two children. His hazel eyes are sure and filled with a strange sort of approval.

Davenport, staid, trustworthy master of pages, looks long and hard at the both of them and a shiver runs down Lup’s spine. It’s not whispered that he has the Sight, but she is _sure_. Finally, under his neatly manicured mustache, he grins and beckons them both forward.

Taako squeezes Lup’s hand and she squeezes back, and they close the door behind them.

\--

The Chamber of Ordeal assaults them with fears, but how can Taako fear isolation with Lup bright beside him? How can Lup fear losing control when Taako’s steadiness seeps into her bones?

Taako can be cruel and capricious. They know.

Lup can be reckless and devastating. They know.

But Taako’s heart reaches out to others under all the bluster and Lup’s soul is made of so much caring it _hurts_. Alone, they might break, but together, they bend and spring back, love one another with a confidence no magic can shake.

Lup has grace beyond measure and a fierce fire nothing can drown; Taako has a drive to survive anything and flashes of insight purer than snowmelt – together, they will be a force the realm’s enemies cannot reckon.

The Chamber shows them Duke John destroying not just the royal family with dark, hungry magics, but the realm itself, the world falling to war and chaos.

\--

In the dawn, Taako and Lup stumble out of the Chamber, still silent and leaning on one another for support. The early light spins their curls to gleaming, burnishes their face with radiance, highlights the confident curves of their spines.

It’s nearly empty in the anteroom – either the Court was sure Taako would fail or Davenport and Merle worked a miracle. Lucretia catches Taako’s arm neatly, her journal abandoned on her bench, and she breathes a sigh of relief that makes him snort. Barry, there as a friend but also a witness for the Crown, reaches for Lup, who lets herself tumble in against him for a tight embrace, almost more intimate than a kiss.

Magnus beams at them both, tears running down his face, and holds out a shield, not with Trebond’s sigil, but a mongoose.

“I’ll make you another,” he tells them, and that makes them both, finally, laugh.

\--

There is no way to prove that Duke John is unraveling the kingdom, but Taako and Lup make off with his effigies of the royal family.

It’s a complex magic that will take him a very long time to reconstruct, and he is ever more suspicious of their party.

Lup and Barry are the ones who have the thought of splitting up the magic rather than destroying it, and if Lup thinks it a good idea, Taako does as well.

There is a long and not quite treasonous discussion, and their group parts ways.

Taako has been a knight little more than a month when he leaves Corus.

Magnus rides with Julia to Port Caynn to pursue a man named Kalen who is stirring up trouble for the Court of the Rogue.

Davenport, Merle, and Lucretia stay at court for the moment – Davenport because he is devoted to his job, Lucretia because she lays her subtle hands on all the strings in noble circles, and Merle to continue his cat-and-mouse game with John, despite their collective and growing unease.

Barry leaves for the Great Southern Desert, for the hill country where his mother Marlena grew up and beyond.

Lup and Taako ride north, alone together for the first time in years.

\--

As they pass through a mid-country hold, Taako meets Ren again, a small young woman with bright eyes who masters the kitchens.

That is, in fact, out of sequence.

Lup and Taako stumble upon a keep besieged by bandits, and Lup feels compelled to help. The bandits, very shortly, are overwhelmed and cleared out.

Taako still hardly trusts his magic, but will use it however sparingly for combat, and has proven himself not half bad with a glaive, taunting and ducking his opponents with its reach. Lup is made of fire and cold steel. The bandits never stood a chance.

Ren worked in the court kitchens as a child, back when Taako made them half his unofficial domain, and she looks at him like he hung the very stars. He plays it off a little, past the aching shattered pieces of his heart, and does little flourishes of magic as she shows him around the kitchens.

Ren hangs off his every word like she values his opinion in a way no one but Lup ever really has, but she also seems uncowed by Taako’s general sarcasm and distance, and he’s… he’s proud of her, this woman who seized on something she loved on the lowest rung and least seen position, and has made herself a domain of her own, lead cook of a noble house. The Goddess’ stone still hangs around Taako’s neck, and Ren is lit up with a bright orange-tinted yellow, her Gift settled comfortably under her skin.

He tells her there’s nothing he can teach her, and that if they’re in Corus at the same time, she should look him up.

Lup seems to find the entire thing a source of great amusement, but in a vaguely affectionate way.

Paloma, the midwife and hedgewitch, makes them scones and ushers them into her house when they should be playing civilized with the family of the fief.

Taako and Lup have a discussion about the scones with their eyebrows, and oblige when Paloma offers to do a fire-reading for them.

The Goddess holds her hand over them. There is a choice to come and a man wreathed in flame.

\--

Lup gets a letter sent from the Great Southern Desert that anticipates her on the road.

She’s not sure if Barry just calculated from their last correspondence or if he knows someone with a touch of clairvoyance, but his missive catches her with ease. He’s found a thorny situation among the Bloody Hawk tribe of the Bazhir and could use her assistance and company.

“Babe,” Lup says to Taako, tilting the letter over so he can see, “I think I need to take care of this.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Taako says, almost absently, but his eyes are intent as he scans Barry’s letter and narrow as he takes in the implications. He could just as easily be the one to go, but he knows them, and just drawls, “Give Barold a kiss for me.”

Lup snorts and shoves her brother’s shoulder, but she is absolutely going to do that.

After a short rest in the town, when Taako heads north, Lup rides south, curving down to the east when the opportunity presents itself. Southern Tortallan weather is always mild, at least compared to the City of the Gods and mountainous Trebond. The desert is hotter still, but Lup has never minded the heat.

Barry meets her at the edges where the road gives way to sand dunes, hair covered by a burnoose and eyes bright to see her as he swings down from his horse. Lup, laughing, draws her own mount to a halt and springs down to throw herself into his arms.

It’s a new thing, the romance between them, but kissing Barry feels like something warm and fondly familiar. She cradles his face in her hands, smoothing her thumb over one cheekbone with a tenderness that surprises even her, and Barry’s face softens entirely as he studies her in return.

“So, about this sword,” Lup says, and kisses the tip of Barry’s nose for good measure.

It makes him blush, even as his expression turns serious and he goes to draw the weapon from its scabbard. The blade is silvery in the bright afternoon sun, and there is a dark, firey opal set into its hilt. The feel of it is nearly painful, cold and hungry.

“I think I can make it into something better,” Barry tells her, all that fierce intelligence writ across his features, “but I need your help. Also the kids?”

\--

Taako rides to the foot of the Grimhold mountains and passes through Trebond for the first time in the best part of a decade. There isn’t much to recommend it and it doesn’t feel like home – home is his sister, is his friends, is not the cold place where his coloring draws whispers.

He continues, solitary and cloaked, to the City of the Gods, to do his research in the libraries there and to visit some people Lup knew well. Pilgrims are not unusual there.

Even with a hood drawn up over his hair and shading his distinctive eyes, Taako draws attention in the streets of the city.

A tall man with long dark hair, Carthaki in descent and dressed all in black, frowns at Taako from the steps of the Goddess’ temple, and Taako touches the coal at his throat instinctively. The man is shrouded in the dark light of his Gift but also the favor of the Goddess.

“Hail and well met,” Taako calls as he nears, because male devotees of the Mother Goddess are a rare thing, and of the Hag Mother even more so. “What’s your name, thug, in case I need to tell people who I _obliterated_ if you try to kill me?”

The man startles, approaches, and his frown deepens before it clears. “Oh! You’re Lup’s brother.”

“I’m _Taako_ , my dude,” Taako drawls, and arches his brows in invitation. “You’re handsome, my fellow, but I don’t know who the _fuck_ you are.”

The Hag Goddess’ chosen blushes, clearly flustered. “What? Wha, oh, um, I’m Kravitz. I, uh, I know your sister?”

Taako is fair sure he remembers the name from Lup’s letters, and nods, studying Kravitz from the corner of his eye. He plans to track down Greg Grimaldis at the Mithran temple latter, offer to pay off his bet with Lup _if_ he shows Taako some workings. For now, he lets a smile curl over his mouth, and prepares to make Kravitz’ acquaintance properly.

Eventually, the Goddess calls Kravitz elsewhere and Taako grows bored of the city about the time that Magnus arrives, bound for Tusaine and the road that runs Maren’s northern border. Merle follows on his heels, grumbling about Weiryn and destinies, and glares at Taako like he _asked_ either of them to show up on his incognito exploration of the country. Still, he leaves with them.

Magnus tells them all about Julia, who is busy rooting out dissent in her court, and Merle reluctantly reveals that John forced his hand. Merle doesn’t say anything about sending reports back to Davenport, but Taako knows what he’s about.

Still, they are good companions for the road, friends and brothers both, and adventure throws itself at their feet.

\--

The desert becomes Lup well. She likes its dry winds and cold, stark nights with diamond-bright constellations.

She is less sure about being a teacher, which is much more Taako’s suit than hers, but Lup does her best. Under the circumstances, though, it matters as much to learn weaving and the local women’s customs as it does to help teach the future shamans of the Bloody Hawk how to conjure wind and flame. Barry helps, of course, but the fact that there are two of them and that they write to Persopolis for teachers who wander by seems to bolster the tribe’s opinion of them.

Lup is not Bazhir, but her golden skin and golden eyes mark her as someone outside Tortall’s comfortable lines, and the curls that shine copper in the sun mark her as the Burning-Brightly One, which helps. Barry is not Bazhir either, but his mother Marlena was, and those with power seem to recognize him as the Night One.

Sometimes someone asks them, sharply curious, why the Jewel Bright One does not accompany them, and Lup lets her teeth show sharp and white in her smile, missing Taako half a continent away.

She thinks of him often, writes letters as best she can and the Goddess is kind enough to give her flashes, so her letters will be directed to the right roads, and does her best by the children the old shaman neglected.

It is no wonder the old shaman burned up his lifeforce against Barry, Barry who does not curb his young student’s inclination to powerful magics and the strange-hilted sword, but meets his eyes and teaches him restraint and control as much as he teaches the young women firmness and confidence in their abilities. If there were ever a sorcerer who would reach into the darkness and return as keen and whole-hearted as before, it is Barry, whose night matches her fire.

The better part of a year passes in the execution of their duties, in growing to know the young man who will be the Voice of the Tribes when the current one passes on, who asks them questions about Tortall and wants to learn as much from them as they do from him. The better part of a year passes as Lup and Barry study the swords in their possession and after consulting with a sorceress who gifts them a map, think they see a way to turn the opal-hilted sword into something useable.

Lup has a dream she cannot explain and sends the map to her brother before she and Barry return to the desert.

Alone in the dunes, in a circle of roaring flame that calls to mind the night they scourged the Ysandir, Lup and Barry balance all their arcane powers in a hideously complex working, and when the blue-violet of their combined magic fades, the sword sits calm and silent on the sand.

Barry lifts it and smiles at her, as free and open as a summer afternoon.

“Animus bel,” he says, and the name settles on the sword like a song.

\--

All-Hallow’s Night falls like a thousand winking eyes, the stars flaring and the stars obscured.

A letter from Lucretia arrives to each of the two groups: Duke John is setting his plans in motion.

\--

Taako shivers all the way up to the Roof of the World, following Lup’s map. He wraps himself in magic and in fur, because he may have been born in the north, but he doesn’t have a constitution made for a place like this, certainly not after all these years. Not without Lup to huddle up for warmth.

Angus, who had ascertained most of their purpose without the Sight or the help of a god on their way through war-torn Sarain, clings to Taako’s cloak as he tried his best to shield himself from the wind. He had been determined not to be shaken loose and Taako sees Lup’s bright mind and convictions in Angus’ stance, the pain of being _alone_ in his hesitant smile, and Taako’s will had given way completely, though he tries not to let Angus see that.

Magnus has taken to Angus as well, jockular and teasing and affectionate, and it seems to distract him from his distress at the state of the country they’re traversing and his perpetual worry over Julia. Merle seems warier, though perhaps that’s simply because he has a son of an age, and rolls his eyes at all of them.

Taako thinks more and more of what awaits them if they succeed, thinks of the threat of John’s destructive impulsive towering over them, and scowls all the way to the inn at the base of the mountain pass.

Magnus volunteers to tackle great Chitral, ready to rush in, and Merle asks Taako if this is _really_ worthwhile.

Angus is bundled up waiting for Taako in the stable in the middle of the night.

“Go back to bed, pumpkin,” Taako murmurs, already waving a hand to lift the lid from the crate of winter gear. “Taako is going to be just fine.”

“But sir,” Angus protests, frowning deeply, dark eyes anxious as he drifts closer. “It’s very dangerous to go out in the cold, and you don’t have training or a guide!”

Taako crouches down to Angus’ eye level. “There are people who call me the Jewel Bright One because my sister and my future-brother-in-law burnt out some ancient-as-hell demons. Everything is going to be _just_ fine. You keep Mags from following after me and burn an offering to the Goddess, and when I get back I’ll show you how to light one with magic.”

“Please be careful,” Angus whispers, and throws his arms around Taako, who relents long enough to rest a hand on Angus’ dark hair.

He pulls away and wraps himself up in so many layers he feels like he can barely move, and makes sure that Angus returns safely back inside before he turns his attention to the magic pulling him forward. Taako walks and walks, fights his way over snow and up the steep incline of Chitral’s pass, eyes squeezed shut.

He is alone and it is cold, and Lup and her golden fire are absent here. Taako is left alone with his worst fear, but Taako is always cold when he is left on his own.

The Goddess’ ember burning at his throat barely seems warm, the only flicker of kindling as he stumbles and does his best not to fall to his death.

There is something Great calling him forward, a whisper on the wind, and Taako follows it into a cave.

Chitral is an impossibly large man-ape with indigo eyes, and he peers at Taako like he can strip him to his faults.

Lup might battle him for the gem. Taako could possibly try to lay a compulsion on him, persuade Chitral to give it to him as a friend, without a price.

Power like this does not work that way.

Taako does not know his eyes glow gold as he looks up at Chitral and makes his case.

When he limps down the mountain, frostbitten and weak, the Dominion Jewel is tucked against his heart.

\--

In the spring, Julia arrives with word that the queen is dead and the king seems ailing and distracted.

The Voice of the Tribes has passed his power along, their three students are willing and able to bear a shaman’s burden while they pursue more knowledge, and Lup and Barry have a way to stay in touch, should the shaman school have questions for them on northern ways.

They make their goodbyes and pack to accompany Julia back to Corus. She tells them about defeating Kalen, who slipped away from the city before she could kill him, and about her latest letter from Magnus, who she misses and is concerned for. She also asks about their time away, though Lup is decently certain that Julia has kept herself well aware of what all of them have gotten up to.

Lup is happy enough to share her stories anyway.

Corus is not the way she remembers it. It still bustles, of course, and they attract eyes that follow them up the road to the palace, but there is a gloomy unrest in the streets. An uncertainty that whispers to all the carefully-honed childhood instincts in Lup’s mind that she ought to leave town, take Taako and disappear into the woods before she was caught up in devastation not of her own making.

Barry might not notice it, but Julia meets her eyes and nods.

The Court is not what Lup remembers either, stiff and hushed, Duke John’s desolation spreading its heavy roots like ink through water, and the king bows under the weight of it.

Artemis Sterling still seems cold, but not as disdainful as Lup remembers, probably affected more than he cares to admit by his mother’s death, which is something that probably sucks when you’re old enough to remember. He treats her with strange and distant courtesy, less because she’s accomplished actually quite a bit and more, Lup thinks, because her closeness to Barry is no real secret to anyone in their circles. They haven’t spoken of marriage together, and Lup imagines they probably won’t until after the issue of Duke John and his plots are resolved.

With the court in mourning, Lup spends most of her time speaking to people at smaller gatherings and individually. She listens to Lucretia, who has become quieter still and somewhat withdrawn, a sternness to her face and a sharp edge to her eye, this woman who is Lup’s sister and who has had to learn, very quickly, how to navigate a court like this.

Politics are less Lup’s wheelhouse than socialization, but she picks up what she can of international affairs and gossip closer to home, and starts to put together a rather unsettling picture, one she cannot stop. Certainly cannot stop alone.

But the unrest suggests that if John will move, he will move soon, and Lup will do anything necessary to prevent him from consuming the realm in all his anger. Lup learns from Davenport, from visiting scholars, from anyone other than John who has magic, and feels like the world is rushing downhill, picking up speed in each space between Taako’s letters.

It’s not yet summer when the king goes out on a hunt. He fails to make a leap and Lord-Prince Artemis Sterling will be crowned king just past mid-summer, to give farflung knights and nobles time to return to court. She hopes Taako will make it back quicker than that, to give them time to plan. To give her more time with her twin, her _heart_ , the other half of her soul, in case everything somehow goes wrong. She misses the hushed certainty of his sincerity, the boisterousness of his chaotic joy.

“D’you think it was on purpose?” Lup asks, unsure if her wariness of John has become paranoia or if the king succumbed to grief.

Barry’s mouth twists in a frown as he considers his uncle, and scrubs his hands over his face. He sounds wrecked and exhausted as he leans into her side. “I dunno, babe.”

\--

On the way back down through Sarain towards Port Udayapur, with a boat the quickest way back to Corus, they meet a Shang warrior.

The Shang Ram is a short, stout woman who shakes her head in amusement at the mongoose emblazoned on Taako’s shield that honestly has spent more time as an improvised platter than as a defense. She’s K’miri, returned to Sarain to do what she can to protect people during the ravages of the civil war, and there’s a quiet sympathy in her eyes when she looks to Angus.

She asks them for their help in securing the freedom of Sloane the Raven, daughter of the K’miri queen and the lowlander warlord, both now dead, and more importantly, Hurley’s dear friend.

Taako sees the look in her eyes and suspects there is more to it than that, but he places his hands on her shoulders and lies through his teeth that Sloane will be fine. He has had enough of loss, and will do his best to help.

Magnus and Merle volunteer their help with startling force, and they plan a raid on agents of the rogue noble Bain, who is escorting Sloane back to Rachia.

It takes the better part of three days to track down the band and coordinate their approach, but when they do, all seems to go well. They fight their way past gangs of men, and when she realizes who they’re with, Sloane seizes the weapon of a fallen soldier and turns into a beautiful flurry of movement, dagger and deep-forest green Gift flashing about her. Beside her, the Shang Ram is fearsome indeed, with all the force and stubborn fury of her namesake.

But when Bain is the only man left and pulls a stiletto in a desperate maneuver, Hurley throws herself in front of Sloane’s unprotected side and takes it between her ribs.

Magnus has already beheaded Bane by the time Hurley’s hand grabs at Taako’s shoulder, and she smiles at him, pained.

“Thanks for everything,” Hurley says, and means _for trying. For Sloane. For the stricken look on your face right now._

Taako eases Hurley to the ground with Sloane’s help and meets the princess’ devastated eyes.

“Silverpoint,” Sloane whispers, horrified, as black creeps like blood poisoning up Hurley’s limbs. She looks down at her and says, “I kept looking for something more powerful than my father. I’m such a fool.”

Hurley laughs, raising a weak hand to frame Sloane’s face. “Yeah. Well.”

“What the _fuck,_ ” Taako protests, because there’s still _time_.

“It’s silverpoint, there’s nothing we can do.” Sloane’s voice catches, tortured, and Taako –

“ _Horseshit_ ,” he snaps, and yells it again for good measure, because he and Lup _burned out the Sweating Sickness_ , and what good is that light-reflecting all-powerful gem if it’s _not going to save people_.

Taako yanks the Dominion Jewel from his robes, slaps his hand against Hurley’s side, and sinks into his Gift, feeling it roar purple-and-indigo around him.

It whispers all the powers of the land, reaches its way into the water and earth and the strife surging through all of Sarain, offers him the power to topple unworthy rulers from their thrones and Taako is not tempted.

When Hurley gasps under his hands, the poison gone, the wound having knit itself back together, Taako sits back and drops his hands to his side, exhausted.

“ _Ha_ ,” he says, and it comes out breathy.

“Is that?” Sloane asks, Hurley half a moment behind, both staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yes,” Taako says, and puts the gem back into its hiding place. His muscles tremble but he’s good at not showing that, just lifts his chin. He considers giving it to them, to help them band this country together, but that sounds like a treason charge waiting to happen. “But ch’boy is hanging on to this; you’re gonna have to take Sarain back yourselves.”

Hurley seems to catch the implication that Taako has no intention of yielding the Dominion Jewel to Artemis Sterling, either, and her face relaxes almost imperceptibly – she’s sharp, he knew he liked her for a reason. Sloane’s mouth slants at his statement, even though her hands are still tangled desperately in Hurley’s.

“The Book of Glass states that no woman may hold the Saren throne,” says peerless Sloane the Raven, but something in her bearing seems to perk in contemplation.

Taako scoffs but doesn’t find the energy to wave a hand. “I have a _sister_. Fuck the Books.”

When they finally all part ways, Magnus is teary-eyed and Merle pats Taako’s arm in silent approval while Angus keeps watching Taako with bright awe, and it’s disconcerting. But it’s nice.

Taako straps himself to his saddle and falls asleep over Garryl’s mane, back on the long road south.

\--

Lucretia comes to Lup with a plan, grown into her self-assurance and poise, but enough the sister-friend Lup made in the City of the Gods that she approaches her first.

These days, Lucretia walks with grace. Today, she wears her pale hair woven into a veritable crown, wears a blue gown that hangs on her like the magnificence of a cliff. There is no trepidation, no journal clutched to her chest, simply papers spread out across Lup’s desk.

Lup leans down, squints until she grasps the spell theory, and considers it.

“It’s a good warding,” she tells Lucretia, because it _is_ , fine and unlike any particular spell Lup has ever seen. “It would cut us off, though.”

“You don’t know that,” Lucretia protests evenly, her mouth crimping in disappointment. Her hands fold in her lap, but her face is set with conviction.

Too often, Lup is flippant, is so sure in herself and the trust of those around her that her first inclination is to simply repeat that the warding _won’t work_ the way Lucretia is hoping, but half a decade without Taako by her side and a year teaching students in the desert has made Lup learn patience. Especially students who reminded her of Lucretia, eager and subdued and elegant in their hopes.

Lup doesn’t sigh, but she does dismiss decorum and tucks her legs crosswise on her chair, spreading her skirts more evenly. She trails her finger over Lucretia’s notes, and finds the part of the work that gives her pause.

“It’s a good idea, and I think there is for sure something here,” Lup says. “This part here, though? It’s going to either make magic rebound or nullify our efforts, which could make things super shitty for us, babe.”

Lucretia’s brow furrows and she sighs. “I don’t like the thought of open confrontation, and it’s all too likely that civilians, the staff especially, could be harmed. We could make a worse mess of it than even his plans.”

Lup grimaces, but reaches her hand over to rest on Lucretia’s knee. “No, I get it. That’s not _us_ , that’s not how we do. I promise, I _swear_ , I will do everything I can to figure out how to keep that from happening. And when Taako gets back, I’ll bounce him your way to see if the two of you can’t work out that kink in the warding. Okay?”

For a long moment, Lucretia is silent and grave, but then she nods and a faint smile spreads over her face. “Alright. Lup… you know I love you. All of you.”

“It’s absolutely mutual, Lucretia,” Lup says, and tugs her in for a hug. “Everything in our power, I promise.”

Part of that everything comes sooner than Lup expects, at the end of summer’s first month, during Artemis Sterling’s procession through Corus in preparation for his upcoming coronation.

She’s there as part of the court, not even at Barry’s request, though it is perpetually hilarious to see awkward, enthusiastic, precious Barry in the formal attire and bearing of Barold of Hallwinter that events of state require.

Lup is good at reading cities and crowds, and unease prickles at her neck, especially when she sees Julia leaning in a doorway, and her trusted lieutenants, Carey and Killian, keeping watch at upcoming chokepoints. Every last one of Lup’s nerves are vibrating, and she wishes she had her Umbra stav or the Goddess’ token of favor, but noble ladies do not carry swords on procession and the coal is with Taako in another part of the world.

She sees the push of movement against the current of the crowd, sees a man she does not yet recognize as Kalen burst forth from the crowd with a crossbow in hand.

Almost before she can think, Lup flings out a hand, cries out a Word of Power, and disintegrates the weapon in a flash of fire before it can even finish aiming for the prince.

Davenport and Barry whirl at the same time, intent on removing the king-to-be from the line of more assassins, which is good. It means that as the panic and terror begins to stir the crowd to riot, Lup can toss her reins to Lucretia and wade into the throng.

Her green silk dress is an afterthought, the glimmers of jewelry on her person are an afterthought, because Lup has more important concerns. Her hands slam up walls of force and lines of heat, draw fire from buildings before they can erupt in flame, blast cobblestones to pieces to keep conflicts from beginning.

Fuck this, Lup thinks, and draws deep from the well of her magic. Fuck letting John and his discontent and plotting destroy this city and the people who live here.

It’s not until after she wakes up the next day to concerned and hovering friends that Lup realizes what she, in large part alone, averted.

She writes a letter to an old friend, because she doesn’t trust it to wait until the gods are moving.

\--

There’s no great fanfare when their party returns to Corus.

Lup’s letter caught up with them in Port Udayapur, filling Taako in on the court and the disquiet in the city, and now that he’s here, Taako sees what she means. He hangs to the back, lets Magnus and Merle enter the palace ahead of him, and evaluates.

The relative peace and stability of the court has always itched at Taako, and he feels perversely more at ease now that all the shadows and silences have made themselves known. For someone who likes to glitter with trinkets and shimmering fabrics, he is very good at fading into the dark.

Davenport is the first reunion they make, and he and Merle grab one another in the warm embrace of a friendship that stretches back decades. Magnus strides in beaming to greet each of his friends, though if his rambling the last few days is any good indication, he’s eager to slip out to find Julia in the city.

Taako only has eyes for his sister.

Lup is resplendent in lilac and pale gold, and she crashes into him at the same time he crashes into her, clinging tightly to one another’s hands. They’ve both spent too much time in the sun; he’s pleased to see she’s tanned and bursting with freckles as much as he is.

“There is a _lot_ to catch you up on,” Lup murmurs to him, like it’s his fault she sent him on an absurd quest.

“Got something to show you too,” Taako retorts, feeling the Dominion Jewel burning like ice against his chest. But then he catches sight of Angus hovering anxiously at the corner of his eye and lets the serious topics go, for now.

They’ll fill each other in on all the news this evening, away from the prying and jealous eyes of the court.

\--

So many days, Lup wishes she could just set fire to Duke John, burn him to a pillar of ash and smoke, explode the entire problem in one forceful push and wipe her hands clean of all of this.

She’s a powerful mage in her own right, though, and she can see even without the Goddess’ assistance that there are strange and eldritch workings holding the duke to life.

It still grates at her, because he has destroyed _so much_ already, and wants to destroy still more. Instead, she has to stand waiting for the Ordeal of Kings to end, with her fists clenched at her sides. The Chamber of Ordeal showed her what was at stake; it could not show her how to survive.

Barry, beside John and sick at it, glances to her for reassurance, and Lup gives him her most winning smile. He sees through it, he must, but something about her sets him at ease anyway, lets him square his shoulders and set himself for the fight to come.

And the fight will come, sometime during the coronation, Lup is sure of it. Taako, beside her, is a confection of silk and velvet, with a hard set to his eyes and the jewel-of-jewels whispering somewhere on his person. Merle’s face is lined and worried the way it has been since he returned, since he dreamed of the Gods in their Hall at Beltane, and he watches the duke so very closely. Davenport’s eyes flicker around the room, prepared and at the tip of his toes, energy coiled so tightly for release. Lucretia, head down, nonetheless has iron in her spine. Magnus eyes the room with distrust, spoiling for battle and concealing it poorly.

Kravitz had better show up soon.

The door to the Chamber cracks open and Lup draws in a steady breath, fire burning under her skin, and thinks a prayer to the Goddess.

\--

John is a fucking drama queen with an impeccable sense of timing, and Taako should know.

Everything goes to hell at the moment of Artemis Sterling’s coronation.

Earthquakes rake the ground and the doors break open.

Lup’s hands are already blazing with fire, but she glances at him, says, “Babe, you gotta find him.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Taako tosses her their sword and turns to leave, takes one last heart-stopping look at her and at Barry, and then stops, grabs Angus by the shoulders and very gently shoves him towards Lup. “You stay with her and Barold, my man. That fire spell will go a _long fuckin’ way._ ”

“I will, sir!” Angus says, confident in them and apparently unafraid, but then he throws his arms around Taako again, the way he had in the dark, cold stable at the Roof of the World. “He’s probably in the catacombs.”

“Sweet, good thought, Ango.” Taako squeezes his shoulders, and if he comes back, he is coming back for this smart, darling boy who Lup had _damn well better keep safe_.

Then, slipping through the fighting like a breeze through trees, Taako heads for the doors. He hurries through the halls alone, balancing as delicately as he can through the earthquakes that shudder in time with his fearful heart. His hand reaches for the ember, but Lup is wearing it now, which is probably good because there is enough magic in the air it probably would have made him flash-blind.

He takes the servants’ corridors for a shortcut, where it is suddenly dark and the commotion fades to a faint, dull roar, and he is alone. The knowledge trembles through him, like the sudden fear of not deserving Lup’s trust, and then there is the soft-sweet pressure of the Goddess’ presence briefly granted, the same scent of metal and grave-dirt he sometimes smells at her altars, even though he’s never seen Her in person.

Taako’s eyes follow the direction of her nudge, and he sees a young man tucked in the nook that leads to the kitchen.

“Hey, my dude,” Taako says, crouching down, and decides not to worry about the time if a deity apparently wants him to do this, too. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“What’s going _on_?” the boy asks, looking up with wide, frightened dark eyes.

“A lot, honestly.” Taako tries to channel Lup’s straightforwardness rather than his own weaponized honesty. “But I’m Taako and I’m doing my best to fix it. This is, this is _not_ a safe place to be. Look, what’s your name?”

“Joaquin,” Joaquin answers and uncurls warily, rising to stand when Taako does the same. The firelight spilling in from the kitchen and the torches coat him in light that licks like flames, and there is flour streaked across his apron. “I’m not even supposed to _be_ here today, I’m fillin’ in for my, uh, for my brother. I just wanted to cook something from _home_ and now I’m probably going to _die_.”

Taako looks him over, sees the way that the stone has stayed sturdy where it shouldn’t, hallmarks of an instinctive and unrecognized Gift that Taako would bet shoes-to-nobles is fire orange. Destiny is a cagey motherfucker and this is not what Taako thought at _all_ , but he will take it.

Calm settles on him like a cloak, because okay, Taako gets it.

“Okay, Joaquin,” he says, and puts a hand on the youth’s shoulder as he does a minor working to calm him. It’s not the most ethical, but Merle was a halfhearted teacher of the subject at best. “Here’s how it goes. You go do what you can to help out, and when all this is done, I set you up with a _rad_ conjuration mage, and you teach me how to make the thing you wanted to cook.”

Joaquin gapes at him, then swells with determination and focus and something very like hope. “Okay, Taako. I don’t know how much good I can do, but… I’ll try.”

Taako graces him with a smile, snorts to himself over _entirely unsubtle Goddesses_ who think he needs to get over his hang-ups, and pulls his power close to hand as he descends into the catacombs.

\--

After so long, it feels _so fucking good_ to be able to unleash all that she can do, finally show John and his allies of destruction what destruction _truly_ means.

It’s not emptiness, not bodies lifeless on the floor, but _hope_ , ashes that can become creation.

Across the room, Lucretia plants herself in front of the king, arms raised as she holds a semi-opaque barrier around the two of them, never faltering. Davenport clears a swath across the room, making way for Magnus and for Merle, who are going after Taako – good.

Beside her, she can hear Angus chanting the fire spell that Barry and Taako modified in the Black City, changing the words for his own needs as greenish-blue Gift flares around him. Beside her, again, Barry swings the Animus bel, waves of magic flowing from one hand while the sword blocks blows and pulls the power from the Gifted throwing spells against him.

Lup does not miss war and does not love slaughter, but she is willing to be ruthless here, to do what is necessary to protect those she can. Fire crackles along the edge of her blade as she parries and swings.

Black fire swallows a rogue noble sneaking up behind Lup, and she looks over in to see Kravitz push back the hood covering his dark hair and shoot her a wry smile. He’s carrying a polearm clearly appropriated from the rack of weapons on the wall, held like he knows how to use it.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” Lup hollers at him, but she imagines that the Goddess has a hand in that, too. “Whatever, look, we could use some back up.”

“I think I can help with that,” Kravitz says, and raises a hand. The shadows on the floor seem to move as he sweeps forward into the thick of things.

The initial chaos is starting to fade and it looks like Lucretia is apprising Artemis Sterling of the situation. Good. But there’s the chance that John’s appropriated troops will rally, and Davenport has his hands full, with the rest of the usual commanders incapacitated or occupied.

There’s a flutter in her throat, the constant awareness of what this court sees lacking in her, but Lup has faith in herself, has faith in her family who trusts her.

She strides forward, inhales deeply, and pulls on all the years she and Taako learned to yell across mountain vales. Lup stands there, hands and sword glowing amethyst, eyes golden and smile deadly, and turns resistance into a rout.

The ground roils and bucks beneath them again, and Lup does her best to hold the dais steady with her magic, but even all her power is dwarfed by the movement of the earth. The walls of the palace are barely holding together, and there is altogether too much for any one person to do, but it’s holding for now. For now.

Lup stabs Umbra stav through the chest of a man who takes a swing at Angus, sweeps her eyes across the room, and realizes that the Hall of Crowns, at least, is all but clear.

In the corner, Carey and Killian sit with their heads bent together intimately, Carey bandaging Killian’s arm.

“C’mon, little dude,” she says to Angus, and leads him over to Barry, and from there to the rest of their ragtag counter-conspiracy. Davenport seems to have talked around the other officials, corralling them into a circle. Julia wipes the blood from her dagger, freshly pulled from Kalen’s chest a final time, and joins them with cold and burning eyes, and gives the Lord Provost a sharp-eyed, amused look when he notices her presence. Lucretia does not drop her shield.

“We have, uh, we have people going after John,” Barry says, no false family-pride in him, just his steady shoulders and solid stance. John’s old sword hangs from his hand, not resisting its remaking in the least. She’s so fucking proud of him; she loves him so much. She loves them all so much.

“We just gotta buy them time,” Lup agrees. “Also, there’s more soldiers around here, and we really need someone to do a sweep for mages supplementing a working this big.”

Kravitz is prowling the halls with whatever forces he brought with him, ushering traitors to his Dark Lady’s domain and their final rest. It’s a good start, but only a start. What they really need is to clear a path to the city, to make sure the gates are open to rally the people on their side and keep riots from spreading. Quick, decisive action and reinforcements.

That and three members of her family trying to bring John to an end, deep in the heart of the palace.

\--

Magnus clears the halls to the catacombs of the enemy soldiers, axe swinging hard and heavy against foes nowhere near his match. He’s looking winded by the end of it, but grins at them as cheerfully as ever, and bows them onward with a flourish.

“Always knew you were something special, kid,” Merle tells Taako, quieter than usual, and looks up at him with one remaining eye. “You and your sister. I hope you can figure this out.”

It’s not surprising, after the sword, and not when Taako knows that Merle is God-touched too. But he nods once, short and sharp, and wonders what awaits them at the end.

Magnus opens the door.

Duke John of Neverwinter sits in the middle of a circle and spreads his hands at them in a parody of greeting. He probably does greet them, but Taako is distracted by the working under him, parsing the spell craft.

It’s a Gate of Idramm variation, modified even further, not just to steal a person’s Gift, but to steal _life_ itself.

Taako’s gaze jerks back up, and he hears Merle and John speaking to or past one another, sees Magnus at the corner of his eye with his axe ready, feels the ground jerk under them, and hopes Lup doesn’t need him.

“ – doesn’t matter what I want any longer, Merle,” John is saying, everything in his face strained, no leer of victory, only something almost _desperate_. “If you had paid better attention to your lessons in the Gift you might know that.”

Merle huffs, stepping too close to the Gate for Taako’s comfort. “Well, I could say the same to you. Some things always mean more than nothing. It all comes down to _relationships_ , you know, the bonds-”

“This will break everything!” John cries, something twisted and dark and broken in him, reaching a hand abruptly toward Merle, but no spell, no Gift shoots forward.

Taako Sees, with a jolt. There is power streaming toward the Gate, surrounding John like a shell, not a singular Gift but many of them, black marred with bright streaks of every color imaginable, flickering like a distorted gemstone and consuming itself. Consuming John.

Now the magic lashes out, striking for all three of them, but Taako blinks as the pieces all fall into place. Lup was wrong about the warding. Lucretia was wrong about the warding. Or, they were both right, just _backwards_ , and Taako knows the spell inside and out, has the power to cast it without the focus of a circle tucked in his tunic.

He drops to his knees, cradles the Dominion Jewel in his hands, and ignores his family’s demands as to what he’s doing.

Taako burns from the power flowing through him and tugging against him, feels made only of liquid fire, and yanks on the jewel with all his might. He ignores the earthquakes, does not try to hold the palace together, does not douse fires, only weaves Lucretia’s ward around the Gate.

The flow of black opal power slows and then, abruptly stops. There are a thousand cutting, witty words at Taako’s tongue, taunts and rebukes and reminders of the days when he was a thorn in John’s side, but he trips over all of them.

He looks up and meets John’s eyes.

“Well? … Bye!” Taako says, and changes the stone with its burnt in Gate to a flat disk of amethyst, and watches John crumple to the floor past a haze of indigo.

Distantly, he sees Merle skid across the gemstone and grab onto the man who once was something like a friend, feels Magnus catch and hold Taako’s limp form up, but his fingers are fixed around the Dominion Jewel and its power sucks at him.

But Lup is waiting, and the rest of his family, and Angus, and Joaquin, and Ren. Kravitz, who Taako has not seen in months.

He breathes out as the golden glow fades from his eyes, and holds the jewel in limp fingers.

\--

Lup knows Taako’s Gift as well as her own, and when it flares, she tears through the palace, vaulting over fallen stone and still bodies with easy and unconscious athleticism. She dashes with her heart in her throat, skids through the catacombs, and drops to her knees beside him.

He’s half sprawled over Magnus’ lap and blinks at her slowly, a lazy smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“Hey, Lulu,” he rasps, and reaches for her hand. He’s _such a dingus_ , as if the old childhood nickname could irritate her now. “Had to be the first to congratulate me, huh?”

“Taako, dear,” she replies, ignoring how hard she’s clinging to his hand, the way her heart starts to slow its thundering now that she knows he’s _alive_. “The badassness was _absolutely_ a joint effort. I just need you there to see them cheer for me harder.”

Amused, he hauls himself up using Magnus’ leg to brace his arm, and smirks at her. The Dominion Jewel disappears back into his tunic, like a secret the two of them share. “Well, I guess you are pretty great.”

Lup laughs and gets her arm under his shoulders to help him to his unsteady feet.

“How’s Julia?” Magnus asks even as he assists, not taking Taako’s weight from Lup, because he’s a good friend like that. He looks tired and worn down, worry edging his eyes.

“She’s good,” Lup reassures him, and glances back to see Merle murmuring funeral rites for their dead foe, because that’s just who Merle is. He’ll follow when he’s ready, and probably catch up before they get where they’re going. “Saw her gut your reoccurring pest problem. I think she’s even winning the Provost over.”

That makes his face split into a smile, and relief radiates from him the entire way back through the crumbling palace.

This time, they see more people combing the wreckage, dragging free bodies and survivors from pockets of fallen building. Lup feels like she should offer to help, but they only get respectful nods and people shuffling out of their way.

Merle does catch up to them, looking drained but still somehow himself, a bloody bandage tied over his missing eye. He pats Lup’s arm and asks her for a summary of what they’d missed. The entire time, he channels his Gift, leaf green and healing, around Taako, who starts to regain a little color.

By the time they reach the Hall of Crowns, Taako can nearly walk on his own feet. Nearly, because he trips out of her grasp to stumble into Kravitz, turning a graceless fall into a desperate kiss even as Kravitz, relieved and surprised, catches him, kisses back. It turns into a quiet conversation when they break apart, still clinging to one another, and both of them look so overjoyed and amazed by one another that Lup can’t bring herself to ruin it.

It’s fitting that Barry catches her elbow, pulls Lup into an embrace with a gasp that’s something close to a sob.

“Hey, babe,” Lup murmurs, letting herself melt in against him, fingers buried in the fabric of his bloody tunic. Let saving all the world feel like this for the rest of her days. She closes her eyes and breathes freely for the first time in memory. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Barry replies, muffled by the tattered silk of her gown, uncaring of the tattered Court that watches them. “I am so happy you’re okay, babe.”

In the background, she can hear Magnus and Julia exclaiming over one another, hears Davenport and Lucretia who must still be up and moving, hears the sound of necessary and hard work being done. Still, she grants herself this moment of reprieve, the exultation of victory and survival, the near burning coal around her neck.

Lup has not been eaten; she is made of all the love in the world.

\--

In the morning, King Artemis Sterling of Neverwinter summons Trebond’s twin scions to his private audience chambers.

Taako and Lup sit across from him, mirror images of studied nonchalance.

He leans across his desk, hands folded in front of him, dark blue eyes piercing.

“I learned a great deal in the Chamber,” he says, deceptively composed. “The two of you took the Ordeal of Knighthood together.”

“We do a lot of things together,” Taako replies, flat voiced, but the edge of their anticipation sharpens. Lup leans back in her chair, eyes narrow, and looks across the table at Tortall’s sovereign.

“I can’t say you haven’t both earned it,” Artemis Sterling says, and sits back again. He sighs, tired and not quite resigned. “After your service to the Crown, it would be unjust to take your shield, Taako. And unjust not to grant yours, Lup. I’ll make the announcement tonight myself. If you’ll take your oath now?”

Both twins, crowned with red-gold hair and intent, uncanny golden eyes, sit up straighter at that.

\--

King Artemis Sterling grants Lup her knighthood in the ruins of a palace she helped to save, and offers them both the barony of Pirate’s Swoop with six months to work out the legalities and the matter of Trebond.

\--

Corus is subdued and recovering, but it feels like a city proper once again while Lup and Taako walk back from the Goddess’ temple, blithely ignoring the stares and whispers that follow them.

There is no real possibility that the Goddess is through with either of them, but after offerings and prayer, the weight of something unfinished has lifted itself from both of their shoulders. The air, which is heavy with dust and residual magic, nevertheless feels clear.

“What do you think you’re going to do now?” Lup asks her brother, sword swinging freely at her side. “What’s the future look like for Taako?”

Taako hums, slides her a sly look that suggests he’s thought about this answer far more than his tone does. “Still pretty bitter about not getting that Mastery, to be honest. Think I might open up a university of my own here, get some more Tortallan credentials going. _Fuck_ is Lucas Miller going to do that before ch’boy does.”

“Sounds good, lemme hook you up with some of the shamans I know,” Lup replies, and beams at him. It’s unspoken between them that he’s likely to involve his own trio of ragtag students, even if he doesn’t end up adopting Angus. “And Kravitz?”

“And Kravitz. He’s sticking around,” Taako agrees. “How about you, Lup? Sorceress-knight savior of the realm, you have options. What are you gonna do?”

Lup smiles. “I think I might do some adventuring out of the country. Maybe help your friends over the border with their revolutionary project, if they could use us on their side. And after that, Barry and I have a whole future to think about.”

Taako, no mask in place, beams genuinely back at her. “Well, shit, keep me in the loop. Weddings take time to plan, y’know.”

She throws her head back and laughs.

“Yeah,” she says, and slips her arm through his. “Yeah, okay.”

\--


End file.
